


Love Among the Triffids

by spinner_atropos



Category: Extreme Ghostbusters (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Help From Friends, Tentacles, about damn time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner_atropos/pseuds/spinner_atropos
Summary: "Unless you're already in some kind of dating relationship, there's never really a good way to tell someone you want to screw their brains out. Especially if you work together. Andespeciallyif they're your boss." He didn't answer--when she looked up at him, his expression was closed. Great, she'd pushed it too far and killed the evening.  "It's not thateasyto tell someone that you feel that way about them, Egon. I've been laid off, I've been outright fired, I've had awful relationships. I couldn't take more rejection. Especially not from you."





	Love Among the Triffids

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Real Ghostbusters: Merry Christmas!](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/341331) by Nasubionna. 



> This was not how I intended to spend my Thanksgiving. This also wasn't the first one I was expecting to finish.
> 
> No particular spoilers, but passing references to "Rollerghoster" (RGB), "Darkness at Noon" (EGB), and "The Crawler" (EGB).

Her birthday had been celebrated the way it would have been in any normal office; the kids had started acting secretive a couple of weeks before. "I hope no one 'accidentally' told them the _year_ ," she said to Egon in passing, "--or he might find himself in a lot of trouble."

There were balloons and a flowering plant--not a geranium, thank God--on her desk when she arrived on the actual morning. The kids had shown up as a group with coffee and bagels, and a round of hugs of varying degrees of awkwardness. They had chipped in for a gift certificate to her favorite tea shop, and Egon--who had managed to not be too nearby when hugs were being given--had given her a card of his own, with a gift certificate to Community Books inside.

A padded envelope with a Cleveland Heights postmark and her name on it had arrived in that day's mail. "You told your _mother_?" she asked when Egon came past.

"No." He took the envelope and studied it. "She must still have it in her address book. She likes you."

"I know she does." It was damned unfortunate how much Mrs. Spengler liked her, really. Inside the package was a knit scarf, dark green and silky in her hands, with gold and copper beads scattered throughout. "She made this, didn't she?"

He fingered it, examining the lacy texture. "I believe so." Mrs. Spengler believed in keeping busy, and had on one memorable Christmas sent the guys holiday sweaters. Apparently she still knit, and had broadened her skills considerably.

She wished Egon weren't standing over her as she read the card--the obvious affection in the note made her heart hurt. A damned shame indeed.

***

Egon's birthday, on the other hand, had not been so routine. 

***

Life settled back into what passed for "normal" at the firehouse. Janine had the building to herself for the morning due to class; Kylie had come back from campus with Egon and they'd gone up to the lab discussing theories of telekinesis.

She was deep in the monthly billing when Egon appeared at her elbow as silently as Slimer. "Don't DO that, Egon," she snapped after she jumped and hit several keys by mistake. "Oh damn." She managed to undo the changes and save without charging anyone two extra digits.

"Sorry." He perched on the corner of her desk briefly, then apparently thought better of it and stood again. She looked up from the screen as he paced a few steps back and forth, uncommonly restless. "I never properly thanked you for what you did for my birthday."

Her irritation at being snuck up on vanished. "It's fine, Egon, I could tell how much it meant to you."

"Our recognition of your birthday seems inadequate compared to that."

"I can't take credit for the killer fog, just the reunion."

He stopped pacing, but wasn't quite looking her in the eye. "Nonetheless, I feel that some gesture of appreciation is necessary--perhaps dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"If you don't--"

She cut him off before he could backpedal too fast. "No, dinner would be fine. Did you have someplace in mind?" It seemed all they ate around the firehouse lately was take-out Chinese and delivery pizza, a change would be welcome.

"Gente di Mare is supposed to be very good."

The name gave her pause--she hadn't eaten anywhere that nice in her _life_. She parsed the words. "It isn't run by actual merpeople or something, is it?"

He looked as if her question had derailed his train of thought. "Not that I've heard?"

"Just checking." She started having suspicions about his anxiety. "I guess I should dress up?"

"Yes, I think so. Saturday?"

"Sure. Should I meet you here?"

"No, I can pick you up."

"Okay, Saturday it is." Egon vanished upstairs again before she could catch up with what had just happened.

***

Kylie passed by a while later. "Could you find a way to scan Egon without him knowing about it?" One eyebrow rose. "He's been acting odd." The eyebrow stayed up. "Not his usual brand of odd."

"I see. That shouldn't be a problem."

Kylie came by with her report on her way out. "He's clean. How odd are we talking?"

"I think he asked me on a date." Again with the eyebrow. "That's _not_ normal behavior."

"I see your point. So what did you say?"

There was no reason this should make her _blush_ , no matter how amused Kylie looked. "What could I say? I said yes."

***

She had just the dress for it, forest-green velvet with a black satin band across the shoulders. She'd worn it on some crappy dates and to a couple of ugly company holiday parties; maybe she could associate some good memories with it for a change. It even went with Mrs. Spengler's scarf, which had remained draped over her bedroom mirror, as it seemed too nice to wear everyday.

She spent Saturday afternoon with clips and styling lotion, trying desperately to convince her hair to do something besides hang straight. She wished the butterflies in her stomach would go pupate--it was stupid, really, to get this anxious about dinner with Egon. Even if it might actually be a date.

She fiddled nervously with the end of her scarf, wondering how the beads had gotten in there, as she stood in the lobby waiting. She nodded absent greetings as residents she knew passed in and out.

Ecto-1 looked huge and wildly out of place as she glided to a stop under the porte-cochère. Janine made it out the door and to the car before Egon could do the chivalry thing. "Hi."

"Hi." He studied her for a moment before putting the car in gear again. "You look very nice."

It was hard to tell if it was a formality or awkward sincerity. "Thanks."

***

The look on the valet's face upon being faced with Ecto-1 was priceless. The look on the young and painfully trendy hostess, not so much. She briskly led them to a far corner of the restaurant, dropped their menus on the table, and disappeared back into the shadows like a fast-moving Class Five.

"It's so small," Egon said, obviously at a loss for much else. He was right; it was an odd angled booth, tucked into a dark, out-of-the-way corner of the dining room. The benches were only wide enough for one person each, and sat at a ninety-degree angle to each other over a triangular table that would hold two place settings if they were lucky.

The growing anxiety on Egon's face made her feel bad--obviously he'd planned this all very carefully, and it was starting to fall apart as he watched. "It's just--eccentric. I like eccentric." When he glanced at her his expression was unreadable. "It'll be fine. I'll sit facing into the corner--since you have longer legs, you sit facing the room."

"I can't see the room for the trees." The parlor palms that dotted the rest of the room were clustering around their table like triffids.

"As long as the server doesn't forget we're back here, we'll be fine."

***

"You did your nails."

She held her hand up slightly to get a better look in the dimness. "My last job only allowed clear or neutral polish, and I kind of got in the habit." Her heart fluttered as he took her fingertips between his fingers and thumb, brushing the pad of his thumb across her nails to feel the texture. "I figured a special occasion was a good reason to start using color again."

The tealight on the table came in handy for reading their menus in the extra "atmosphere" of their out-of-the-way location. Their server not only found them but was knowledgeable, friendly, and attentive, with recommendations regarding the house specialties. The only surprise was when Egon ordered something that sounded like it had the word "pulpo" in it. He'd never struck her as a particularly adventurous eater.

Egon seemed to relax by the time the wine and appetizer arrived. Conversation was pleasant and easy, and he didn't even go off on one of his scholarly monologues. When their plates arrived she got a good look at Egon's dinner. "You really did order octopus."

He looked at her curiously. "When prepared properly, octopus is quite good. Would you like to try some?"

Janine felt hopelessly boring with her carbonara. "I'm really not sure, I've never dared to eat anything with tentacles."

"Then a try a piece of the head." She stopped an inappropriate response before it reached her mouth, and he offered her a forkful of pasta and something that wasn't pasta.

It went against her better judgment, but she took it; the texture wasn't horrifying, and the mild taste blended with the sauce. "I wouldn't go out of my way for it, but it's better than I expected." Egon seemed pleased, and she went back to her own safe dinner.

Their knees bumped as Egon shifted position. Maybe she'd underestimated how cramped the booth really was for someone with such long legs. His foot brushed hers, and she started wondering if they should ask for a better seat after all, but now that he'd relaxed she didn't want to rock the boat.

***

"Dessert?" Egon asked.

"Of course. Unless it involves squid." He smiled a little and found the dessert list tucked behind the salt and pepper.

"This is very hard to read." He passed it to her; it was small text printed on dark cardstock.

"There's always cheesecake," Janine said. "You can't go wrong with cheesecake."

"Or zabaglione." He took the card back, holding it closer and frowning at it. "I think that's what it says."

She slid closer to the corner of her bench and leaned forward to peer at the card with him, and their knees bumped again. "How many other z desserts are there?"

"It could be 'zeppole.'"

Their server came and went, leaving behind a promise that he'd find them the perfect dessert. She turned in her seat slightly and accidentally caught Egon's shin with the toe of her pump. He continued to try to decipher the dessert menu--apparently he felt that if he could read ancient Sumerian texts, a poorly-printed menu in modern Italian and English shouldn't get the better of him. Holding it closer to the candle didn't seem to be helping. "So what do you do when that catches fire?"

"Accidentally knock over a water glass." There was just a hint of deviltry in his subtle smile, and her heart skipped a beat or two.

She sipped at her own water and nearly inhaled it when something touched her ankle, sliding slowly and smoothly down her instep until it reached the edge of her pump. Egon was still engrossed in his reading, oblivious to her stare.

She wanted to look under the table--it had felt like he wasn't wearing a shoe, which would mean that it hadn't been an accident. And If he really _were_ trying to play footsie, it might spoil the moment. But--Egon playing footsie? Maybe he really _was_ possessed. By... a footsie-playing demon? Even when dealing with the supernatural, often the simplest explanation was the most likely. The touch wasn't repeated. Apparently the shoe was in her court.

"Chocolate panna cotta with port-wine cherries, folks, the perfect ending." They both looked up--did Egon look a little guilty?--as the server buzzed in with a plate and two tiny forks and the bill presenter. He was gone before they could thank him. Janine started wondering if _he_ were some kind of supernatural being.

"Should we have asked for two?" Egon wondered.

"He would have given us two if we'd needed it," she replied, slipping one pump off. She picked up a fork and tried a small sample. " _Oh_." Egon shot her a look. "It's _really_ good. Try to get more than your share and you'll have to fight me for it." She brandished her fork at him.

While Egon sampled the dessert she reached carefully toward where his feet should be. She found one without a shoe--ha, busted--and hooked her foot slightly, curling the arch against his calf and sliding it up under the hem of his pant leg before withdrawing again. She kept her attention carefully on their dessert for several seconds, then sneaked a glance at him and caught him looking at her. She felt the touch of his foot again, the thin fabric of his dress socks smooth against her skin. "Just when I think I have you figured out," she said quietly without looking up, sliding further into the corner of the bench to sit a little closer to him. He was stroking her instep with slow, measured movements, and she was beginning to feel a bit flushed.

And then his hand settled on her knee, palm cupping it, his fingers resting on the inside of her thigh. "What has gotten _into_ you?" It was all she could do to keep from giggling in a very undignified way.

He looked at her directly, suddenly worried. "Do you object?"

She forced herself to to hold his gaze. "I don't object at _all_ , Egon."

His expression cleared again and he studied her face. She tried to stay calm, realizing that he was looking for clues. Surely he could see the color in her cheeks even in the dimness.

"I see." He looked down again and took another bite of dessert as his fingers curled, stroking lightly against her skin. She felt herself blush harder as arousal pooled in her belly. She wondered how far he'd take this experiment--they _were_ pretty secluded, after all.

"I think we should leave soon," she managed breathlessly. "Or I'm going to get us _thrown_ out."

Egon kept a perfectly placid expression as he gave the server his credit card; it was whisked away with the bill. The server returned, thanked them for visiting, and wished them a good evening. Egon murmured a reply, breaking physical contact with Janine. She took another swig of water to get herself under control, slipped her shoes on, and led the way to the coat check. Egon helped her with her coat; when they were close she murmured "Your place or mine?"

"Yours. No Slimer." Another flash of heat threatened her self-control; she restrained herself to taking his arm as they left the building and he gave his slip to the valet.

The crisp winter air helped to bank the flames. "Did you plan tonight this way?"

Ecto's engine echoed between the buildings as she pulled up. Egon held the door for her--some gentleman--before circling around the long hood and getting in himself. "The original plan was only for dinner, but the situation seemed to lend itself to--testing the waters."

She was grateful for Ecto's big bench seats; she buckled herself into the center position, feeling Egon's leg move against hers as he drove. He glanced down at her as they waited at a stoplight. "If we come here again, I think we should request that table."

She smiled. "Most guys try to find a less public place to put the moves on their date."

"The weather's a little chilly this time of year for parking, and Ecto tends to attract a lot of attention. This seemed the best of both worlds--secluded, yet safely public."

"What was the tipping point?" He looked at her. "To make you test the waters."

He thought for a moment. "I realized that there was a great deal of evidence in front of me, pointing to one conclusion." She rolled her eyes--ever the scientist. "You came back, without a clear and compelling reason to do so."

"You mean to the class, or to the job? Coming to class was just morbid curiosity. Coming back to the job--I had to. You needed me to. I couldn't live with myself if I just walked away. Even if nothing ate the city or destroyed the world, I couldn't just leave you to your fate."

"And Cojilla."

Her memories of that were muffled and distorted, like she was witnessing them through thick, water-streaked glass. "I still don't remember much about that," she said quietly. What she did remember didn't make much sense.

"I also... asked some mutual friends."

She groaned. "Peter, Ray, and Winston. And oh lord, you didn't ask the kids, did you?"

"Just Kylie." He was defensive. "The others wouldn't know--or care."

"You could have just asked _me_."

"You could have just _told_ me."

"Yeah, I could have." The habitual bite was back in her tone.

"Why _didn't_ you tell me?"

"Unless you're already in some kind of dating relationship, there's never really a good way to tell someone you want to screw their brains out. Especially if you work together. And _especially_ if they're your boss." He didn't answer--when she looked up at him, his expression was closed. Great, she'd pushed it too far and killed the evening. "It's not that _easy_ to tell someone that you feel that way about them, Egon. I've been laid off, I've been outright fired, I've had awful relationships. I couldn't take more rejection. Especially not from you."

They were at her building. Egon eased Ecto into a space and let her idle. "I could just see you to the door if you want."

Sudden pain crushed her heart. "Don't do this to me now." Her voice cracked.

"I'm not rejecting you," he protested. "Has it occurred to you that I'm afraid too? I have very limited experience--translating the theoretical to the real world has much higher stakes here than in physics or parapsychology."

"Nothing's going to explode," she snapped.

"No, but I'm unlikely to be given a third chance."

She blinked. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. It doesn't _have_ to mean the end of everything."

He was silent for several moments. "Is this the appropriate time to ask 'will you still respect me in the morning?'"

She snorted. "I've seen you do a lot of weird shit over the years. I think it'll be fine."

He shut off the engine.

***

They were the only people in the elevator; she stood close to him, slipping her fingers through his. He glanced down at her, then further down at her feet. "I thought you seemed taller."

"Figured I'd go all out." She held one foot up, angling it so he could see her shoes, as the elevator doors opened. She had to take her hand back to fish her keys out of her purse and unlock the door. "I'd offer you a drink, but all I really have is fruit juice and maybe some milk."

He was studying her living room when she turned back from setting the chain and bolt. "What we had at dinner is about my limit," he said. "I've been drunk once and do not wish to repeat the experience."

She gave him a "go on" expression but he didn't. "I haven't heard this story," she said.

"Very few people have," he replied, his expression sour.

She waited but he didn't say more. She took a couple steps toward him. "Either you tell me or Peter does."

"This would not be a good time for it," he said.

She had to be satisfied with that. "Hot chocolate, then?" Another step toward him; they were within arm's reach of each other.

"Maybe... after?" His voice was soft, the pitch lower than normal. He took a step and they were face-to-face.

"After," she agreed. He was wearing a bowtie--she hadn't realized until now that he didn't wear them anymore--and she took hold of one corner of it, pulling him gently down and stretching up on her toes--even in these shoes, he was still so tall--until she could just brush her lips against his. It was just for a moment, not long enough for him to respond, but it still made her heart flutter. He put his hands on her waist and moved closer, their bodies barely touching.

"You said something about my brains earlier," he murmured.

"I've always admired them?"

"Something else."

"Mmm, that. I normally don't do that on a first date." She shifted her weight back and forth slightly, as if indecisive, brushing against him enough to feel that he was hard. She could see his breath catch.

"This isn't our first date. Remember the haunted roller coaster?"

She stretched up and kissed him again, more slowly this time; his lips moved against hers.

"You said that wasn't a date."

"Well, of course I told _Peter_ that."

She laughed and he took the chance to kiss her fully this time, surprising her. His tongue ventured into her mouth and she sucked on it gently before stroking it with her own; he pressed against her. She started undoing the buttons on the front of his shirt and pulling him toward the bedroom.

***

Egon was as maddeningly methodical in making love as he was in everything else. Janine had tried to take the lead, given his admitted inexperience, but he had caught her wrists gently. "I want to learn you," he'd said, guiding her to lie back.

"As long as I get a turn later," she said, complying. He didn't answer, but his mouth moved to her jaw, then her throat, and she'd settled in to let him explore.

He seemed to be determined to touch and taste every inch of her skin at his own pace, despite her occasional attempts to direct him. His self-consciousness seemed to have been forgotten. She realized at some point that he was studying her reactions and responses, and then she started to suspect that he was deliberately teasing her. His hands--oh, those hands--were tracing the lengths of her thighs and he was nipping gently at the curve of one hip.

"Foreplay is a wonderful thing," she said, running her nails down his shoulders. "But sometimes the destination is as important as the journey." Her skin was sensitized all over and she was _aching_ to have him inside her.

"Patience," he murmured, his voice vibrating against her skin. One hand brushed her mons, then very, _very_ gently traced the cleft of her labia.

She groaned in frustration. "I _have_ been patient, for God's sake--" One long finger slid into her, a promise of relief. Her muscles tightened involuntarily; he withdrew, then tried two fingers. She gasped and her back arched. He started to stroke her, changing the position of his hand ever so slightly. "Don't stop," she managed. She opened her eyes to look at him; his expression was similar to when he'd been flirting with her at dinner, but overlaid with an open desire that would have buckled her knees had she been standing. Instead she made an undignified sound and came hard.

***

"Was that worth it?"

She sat up, still a little swimmy-headed. "I know you're not THAT inexperienced." She found the condoms on the nightstand and unwrapped one. "You have a wider wicked streak than I thought." She kissed him, taking her time, pleased by his much more confident response. She pushed him down onto the bed. "My turn." She took her time unrolling the condom, watching him start to sweat. She leaned down and took him into her mouth.

He groaned. "If you do that I won't be _able_."

She flashed him a look under her lashes. "There's always next time." She let him go and wriggled down next to him, working her leg under his waist as she tugged on his shoulder until he rolled onto his side. She guided him into her, one hand on his ass to urge him deeper. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

He started moving very carefully, obviously pacing himself. "I have the same limits as any other man."

She hooked her upper leg over his hip, tilting her pelvis at a slightly different angle. She was still extra-sensitive from her orgasm and was starting to feel the build of another one. She squeezed his buttock. "Don't hold back."

He held her to him and rolled until he was on top, moving with greater intensity. She planted her feet on the bed and rocked her hips against him, closing her eyes as she came again. Egon shivered and thrust into her hard a few more times before clutching at her shoulders and moaning something that might have been her name.

He was the first to speak. "I wasn't too rough?" He brushed his lips against her temple.

"Not at all." She didn't want to move, satiated and content. She realized that her fingers were still tensed on his shoulders, her nails leaving creases in his skin. "Sorry."

"No damage done." He started to withdraw and remembered the condom. "Just a moment." He retreated to the bathroom.

"Do you want that hot chocolate?" she called.

He returned before answering. "Maybe tomorrow?" He looked uncertain again and she got up, turning off the lights.

"Tomorrow's good." She got into bed and waited for him to join her, negotiating positions until they were comfortable. "We can do tomorrow."


End file.
